cycle sport, by and large, is not populated by what we might refer to as characters, at least not in the extrovert sense. this most likely, is the result of its being one of the hardest sports on the planet, whatever followers of tiger woods might think. aside from the persistent travel throughout a never-ending season, any perceived downtime is likely to be occupied with training to the point of exhaustion. and we're probably all aware of the cyclist's mantra, that there's no poont in standing when you can sit and no point in the latter when lying down might still be a practical option. none of this lends itself to being mr or miss personality as far as the tifosi and paparazzi are concerned.

peter sagan might well be the modern-day exception to that unwritten rule. though bradley wiggins could be considered characterful, he might not be the life and soul of the party to which you've invited him. and though chris froome seems more than polite in the post race interviews, there's every possibility he'd merge into the background at the same party (or not arrive at all, if he learns that bradley's on the guest list). sagan, however, is the chap who wheelies over the finish line, pinches the bottom of a podium girl and has more variations in hairstyle and facial hair than the late david bowie. a man enjoying the fruits of his considerable abilities

and, very much in his favour, despite accusations of narcissism, the cover of his first foray into print attests "If there are a hundred riders at the start of a race, there will be a hundred stories told at the end." it's a statement that undermines any thoughts we might harbour that sagan's might be the definitive read. and lest we make the mistake of thinking this to be an 'autobiography' (albeit, part of that 'auto' being scribed by the inestimable john deering), that same dust cover informs us "Mine is a story about wearing the UCI rainbow jersey three years in a row. That's something you can only hear from me."

of course, three consecutive years as world road race champion is not the sole string to the slovakian's bow. between 2015 and 2017, while wearing the rainbow jersey, peter sagan has also won the european road race championships, the slovakian national championship and even the national time trial championship. additionally, flanders, roubaix, gent-wevelgem, kuurne-brussels-kuurne and the tour of california have been added to the trophy cabinet. hard to believe that the chap is still only 28 years old.

not surprisingly, 'my world' enlightens us as to the lifestyle of an extremely outgoing, professional bike rider who has earned enough money not only to live in monaco, but, on being ejected from the 2017 tour de france after allegedly elbowing mark cavendish into the barriers, spent the resultant aftermath a long way from licking his wounds.

"Hmm. What was Monte Carlo good for? I got o the phone to the yacht brokers. Could you perhaps organise a yacht for about ten people t have a holiday next week? You could? Great..."

proving that sagan really is the chap you'd want at your party, he hired not just any boat, but the christina o, formerly owned by aristotle onassis and now available after a 50 million dollar refit.

"OK, I'll take it."

aside from a particularly comprehensive index at the rear, 'my world' is conveniently broken into three distinct parts, each titled after the venues of his world championship victories: richmond, doha and bergen. (interestingly, as an aside, it says much about how highly sagan's racing abilities are held, when he even appeared as a possibility for last sunday's race at innsbruck.) this format seems, at first look, to be a recipe for tedium; though professional cyclists appear to have impressive powers of recall, reading the minutiae of each season's travails might not be everyone's idea of fun.

peter sagan and john deering must surely be twins separated at birth, at least when it comes to narrative, for it is well nigh impossible to see the join across the book's 300 plus pages. even when detailing the myriad twists and turns, nothing could appear further from the race manual.

"By consolation, that consistency meant that I wouldn't have to wear my notional brown jersey the following day, as I'd nicked enough points off Greipel to get my favourite Robin Hood-coloured jersey back. [...] The way things were going, I bet if I ran the Sherriff of Nottingham's coach off the road, I'd get to the treasure chest and find Greipel or Cav had already helped themselves."

it may or may not be coincidence, that one of cycling's most extrovert riders spent two years in a team owned by likely one of the most extrovert of owners: oleg tinkov. for all the accusations levelled at the latter, concerning his often brusque management style, sagan seems to have enjoyed his time in the team jersey. though they may have imitated two immoveable objects travelling in opposite directions at times, there appears to have been mutual respect.

"Every one of these ideas is vocalised, whether it's smart, outlandish or flat-out crazy. He doesn't have that filter that most people have [...] As you can imagine, his capacity to offend is limitless."

however, had tinkov opted to continue in formula one cycle racing, there seems every possibility that sagan would have remained as his number one rider. but in order to survive the vicissitudes of the professional milieu, sagan has surrounded himself with individuals he constantly refers to as 'team peter', "...a little hardcore group of dedicated people whose joint goal is to make wins for me". with himself at the head of this compact and bijou team of his own, one that goes wherever he goes and 'wears' the jersey he wears, is brother juraj ("at the age of 29 he is demonstrably improving"), giovanni lombardi ("the greatest agent in cycling"), masseur maros hlad ("...incredible."), sylwester szmyd ("the Last Gregario"), patxi vila, mechanics jan bachleda and mindaugas goncaras and last but not least gabriele uboldi ("...spends huge parts of every day sorting out shit.")

the fact that the above mentioned individuals receive the full length of a chapter all to themselves, surely attests to sagan's perception that, though he's the lad with the rainbow jersey, he scarcely achieved such distinction all on his own.

the book's epilogue reveals the inside story of sagan's first victory in paris-roubaix, a win that surely ranks alongside five tour green jerseys and three sets of rainbow bands. yet, despite the personal joy that must accompany lifting aloft a chunky cobblestone, he offsets potential elation by remembering michael goolaerts who collapsed and died during the early stages of the race, "A young Belgian guy...with his whole life ahead of him. [...] a hundred stories... I wish that he could have ripped that ticket up."

there's probably very little doubt that peter sagan has a number of books in his future. that being the case, we can but hope that they are as entertaining as 'my world'. however, i've always been highly suspect of sports people (in particular) who write and publish biographies before they've even reached one score years and ten. once was the time when the genre consisted only of those who had acquired a lifetime of stories and experience, even to the extent of having been laid to rest after a stellar life in the limelight. but there's no denying that professional sports often offer a particularly short career, one in which each and every opportunity ought best to be grabbed while fame lasts.

and it's nice to see that, despite his undoubted athletic prowess, peter sagan still has the savvy not to take everything (anything?) too seriously.